Unfortunate

Chapter 1: Lisa

The door creaked as it slowly swung closed behind me, clicking when the latch finally connected with the frame. The main hallway was dimly lit, but it wasn't hard to see. I waited for a few moments in silence as I stood inside the very building I had wanted to go to since the day it all happened. All that was needed was a few seconds of standing rigid enough to be thought of like a statue, silently waiting for the slightest of sounds. The electricity seemed to be out because on a normal day, anyone could hear the low hum of the furnace or the buzz from the air conditioner. 

Today, it was dead silent.

Most places now didn't have electricity, the plant having been abandoned months ago when this all started. After the chaos that ensued the first few days, no one was left to keep the lights on.

I started to walk forwards cautiously, my footsteps painfully echoing with every step. The emergency lights flickered above, reflecting off the tables as I passed by. Most of them were battery operated, but they wouldn't have much juice left in them now.

Glancing at the tables, I remembered the times I used to sit at a very specific one near the end with my friends.

Taylor, Rebecca, Erin, Chloe...

Now, those tables sadly sat at the back of my mind, along with my friends who were no more.

The air felt thick and had a musty stench to it, something I was used to at this point in deserted buildings. Paintings clung to what was left of the crumbling walls, but most of them had given up and laid face down on the ground. There was glass scattered at the base of the wall, from broken picture frames that had started to accumulate a small layer of dust.

That was a good sign.

Heading over to a separate corridor further down, there were doors left open to empty rooms filled with darkness. These rooms were previously used daily, having a scheduled flow of adolescents sitting in desks every hour to listen to adults teaching them about different topics. History, in particular, was one of my favourite classes. There was something about the past that was so intriguing to me.

Now, though, there were no classes; there were no teachers left to teach nor students to enlighten. The windows of the old classrooms were either smashed open, covered with tattered curtains, or blocked by cardboard to keep in the little heat that remained in this building.

I continued to walk, aware of every little sound filtering through the building. A small bird zipped past above, barely making a sound, having been trapped in here at some point and was surprisingly still alive. Another good sign. The sole reason I was here was to retrieve two things I decided were important enough to risk my life for; a book and a small locket from my locker.

At the end of the hallway, the stairwell leading down was lit from the light of an open window; the stairwell heading up was dark. I started to climb up the stairs slowly, careful not to make too much noise.

The only sounds I could hear were that of my own soft breathing and every step I took, quietly echoing down the stairwell.

I couldn't remember, for a painfully short moment, what had happened just a month before. Time had almost stopped to allow me to recall better times.

***

"So.. are you going to ask him out?" Chloe questioned from behind me and I whipped around to silence her. Her long brown hair was pulled up in a tight ponytail that ran all the way down her back. Chloe wore a cute dark dress that fell just below the knee and wore a pair of white converse shoes, the only pair she ever wore to school. She stood a foot shorter than me, but there was so much energy in that tiny body of hers that she was always ready for almost anything. Her button nose and honey-coloured eyes made her one of the most beautiful girls around, not to mention her full lips that most guys wouldn't stop staring at. We were in the middle of the hallway crossroad near the bottom of the stairs I took to get to my locker. I grabbed her by the upper arm and dragged her from the hallway and started to climb the stairs.